Jezebel

Part Three: 2

"Did you invite Harel?"

"Hm?" Gomar asked, eyes fixed on the numbers before her. If she remembered correctly, she had delivered fourteen barrels of wine to Bela's household. Why was the acquired income not balancing?

"Gomar?"

"Hm?"

"You're not listening to me."

"Of course I am."

"Then what question did I just ask you?"

Sighing, Gomar leaned into her seat and glanced in Jared's direction. "Alright... What is it you asked?"

He pulled the ornately carved chair opposite her then settled in. "Harel."

At her blank expression, he shook his head as if the felt sorry for her. "I was asking if Harel was part of those on the guest list for Ephraim's wedding."

Gomar shrugged. "I saw no need to invite him."

"But you invited his brother." Jared frowned.

"Jehu is the mightiest general in Isreal." She answered offhandedly, all the while wishing she could get back to work. "It is only normal that he should be on the guest list."

"Invite Harel, too."

"Very well," Gomar said immediately. Harel was useless to her plan, she doubted his presence at the wedding feast would interfere with it.

A silence only interrupted by the occasional flapping of the curtain behind her descended upon the study. Gomar could feel the words Jared was fighting not to speak, they hung in the air like heavy indoor clouds.

Leaning forward, Gomar pulled a parchment from a neat pile to her left. Sweeping a palm over its cream coloured surface, she dipped the tip of her quill into an inkwell then began writing.

"I know what you are struggling to say." Gomar wrote out the invite in fluid lines, her hand steady and words flowery. "It's not like I would break down into a weeping mess. Speak. There is nothing to worry about." All the while she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on her task.

"Would you be visiting the..." Jared let his words fade.

"Naboth's grave?" She looked up, a small sad smile resting on her lips. "Yes, I will visit. You do not have to act as though I'd combust if you mention Naboth's name." Gomar hovered a stick of beeswax over the low flame of the oil lamp.

Jared observed her for a moment, his sombre looking eyes showing resignation. "Well," he stood, his tall frame making her crane her neck to look at his face, "I would be at the threshing floor with Eli and Ephraim. Can hardly believe he would be wed in four days time."

Shaking her head. Gomar folded the invite, pressed the melted portion of the beeswax stick on the overlap then sealed it. "Since you are bent on Harel attendance, find a means to give him this."

As soon as Jared left, Gomar released a pent up breath, then went back to work. It was only when the sun dipped lower and evening was firmly in place that she stopped. It was time to do what she did every anniversary of his death.

~

Gomar went alone, walking the distance without a single servant in tow. The light from the setting sun was pleasant against her skin, she took comfort in it. The little things... It was the season of the latter rain so the ground was a bit soft and the air, even softer. She took a deep breath. Naboth would have loved today.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her wooden flask.

Just ahead, she made out the jutting grey stone. To her relief, no one had attempted to remove it all through the years. It was like the spot Naboth was buried was avoided by those who lurked in the edge of the city. When she finally made it to the spot, she flipped open a piece of tanned camel hide then settled upon it, folding her legs as she did so.